


Waiting for Forgiveness

by lucifers_left_earlobe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fallen Castiel, M/M, Sick Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-17
Updated: 2013-09-17
Packaged: 2017-12-26 20:18:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/969876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucifers_left_earlobe/pseuds/lucifers_left_earlobe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Continuation of canon verse after the purge of the angels from Heaven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting for Forgiveness

The first time he says those three little words, I will stay, Dean doesn’t know how to respond. Castiel, frank as ever, returned to the bunker carrying nothing but four layers of clothing, a buck fifty in quarters, and an unwrapped condom in his back pocket. He’s welcomed with open arms, of course. Cas has always been one of the Winchesters; Sammy can attest to that.

When he shows up, two months after everything blew up in their faces, after Metatron tricked Cas, Sam’s in recovery in the ICU of a small hospital in Lebanon, Kansas and Dean’s emotional state is in the crapper. He’s lost hope, again, but this time he knows he’s at fault for what happened to his brother. If he’d just killed the damn hell hound when he had the chance, all those months back, it would be him in that hospital bed exactly where he deserves to be. At least Sam is not in critical condition anymore.

Some of the other expelled angels had come to assist the brothers after the time of the purge. One had even been generous enough to sacrifice some of his grace to see that Dean returns Sam’s fighting spirit and his hope. The angel’s name is Raziel, though he’s taken to Raz because that’s what Sammy likes to call him.

Raz’s showing up _had_ helped them, truly, and Dean’s eternally grateful to him for being there. But he needed Cas. He wanted to confirm that his angel was still alive, that he’d managed to at least escape Metatron in one piece. And at first, Cas did appear to be in one piece. He wore a small smile on his face, he appeared to be in fully functioning order, and he had that same Castiel attitude.

Upon further inspection, Cas was falling apart. His grace, the very essence of his being, was stolen by that dick doing wheelies in Heaven. His smiles grew into hysterical, mutilated things. He took to drinking, at first, but began to escalate when he’d discovered prescription medications stashed throughout the bunker. Cas was exploding at the seams, all of his guilt making its way to the surface by means of self-destruction.

Dean tried to help, he did, but Castiel didn’t want to hear any of it. One night, Dean figured he’d try what he’s best at, as far as the generalities of human affection: sex. Cas took the opportunity with haste, though it didn’t have the effect Dean had hoped it would. His angel is slipping through his fingers, unable to fathom a hope in this world.

Sam returned to the bunker less than two weeks after Cas showed up. Raz made his home in the room next to Sam’s, checking up on him in the wee hours of the night. Cas moved from the couch (he’d been adamant about refusing a room) to Dean’s room, favoring the presence of another warm body lying beside his as he woke. It’s because of this move that Dean noticed Cas’s sobbing in the morning. He’d cry for hours on end. At first, Dean pretended not to notice; he just feigning slumber while Cas hiccuped his way into a restless sleep. When it grew worse, Dean would take him in his arms, letting the angel mourn his brothers and sisters with the company of someone who’d understand.

Then, without warning, Cas up and left one day. The only evidence that remained of him was the hastily scrawled out note on the fridge.

            ‘ _I’m leaving for a while- don’t know when or if I will return. Raz has promised to remain here watching over the two of you; don’t worry, he’ll protect you. I need to atone for what I did up there. If these are the last words I leave to you, I want you both to know that it was worth it: falling for you, dying for you. You taught me freedom, and I’ll never forget that._

_-Cas’_

Dean almost tears up the note. He almost takes Cas’s old clothes and burns them in a fit of uncontrolled rage. He _almost_ does lots of things; instead, he opts for crying against the kitchen cabinets on the floor like the pathetic waste of space he is. After what seems like hours, Dean returns to his room to clean up the mess left from last night, when the two frantically fucked on the duvet of Dean’s bed. He almost refuses to clean the soiled sheets to preserve the scent of Cas. Almost.

Months pass and he still hasn’t heard a word from Cas. He doesn’t even know if the guy’s dead. He concentrates more on his efforts to restore balance to the Heavenly order. With assistance from Crowley, they’ve discovered a way to return the angels to heaven without using Cas’s grace. As they flesh out their plans, Sammy rebuilds his strength, often excusing himself to the weight room they’d discovered in the west wing of the bunker. He’s stronger now, less sunken and gray. Occasionally, he even flashes one of his childlike smiles, immediately bringing Dean back twenty years to when they set fireworks in the park on the fourth because Dad wasn’t there to stop them. Everything is back in its running order; that is, everything except Cas.

Dean has all but given up hope when the Winchesters are surprised by a guest the following autumn. Sammy’s got a girlfriend now; no, she’s more than that, she’s pregnant with his child. Dean hasn’t dated since Cas left last year. He hasn’t had the heart. That’s what makes the arrival of him all the more surprising.

Cas shows up in front of the east door; his frame gaunt and shivering. He’s lost weight in the past months. The vessel that he hosts is nearly fifty pounds lighter since the last time Dean laid eyes on him. Cas offers up a smile in greeting, but that only makes the extreme thinness all the more obvious. Dean brings him inside, half carrying the man, and makes him three full boxes of mac n’ cheese, observing as the former angel devours each and every little noodle. When he finishes, Dean notes that at least some of the color has returned to his cheeks.

“Cas, where the hell were you?” Dean asks, unable to keep the worried gruffness out of his tone. He doesn’t give a shit if he sounds concerned; the fact is that he _is._ Castiel’s eyes quickly flit to where his bony hands are rested in his lap.

“I was everywhere, Dean.” He answers, his eyes not lifting from his lap. Dean drags a chair beside him and plops down, wrapping an arm around the scrawny angel. Cas continues, “My siblings were not pleased to see me. You were right, Dean. I should’ve never seeked them out.”

And that’s when Castiel, former angel of the Lord, begins crying like a toddler, not even trying to muffle his wails. Dean hugs him close, lifting him into his lap so he can warm his cold, cold body.

“It’s all right, buddy. Just let it all out,” he keens, rubbing his hands up and down Cas’s back. The angel clutches him like a desperate man, and Dean supposes he is. But when Castiel pulls back slightly, Dean can see something deep in his eyes, something reflecting his very being. He leans forward, tentatively pressing his lips against Dean’s, their texture reminiscent of their first kiss, all those years ago on the eve of the end of the world. Cas brushes them back and forth, over and over, until he brings his face to rest just above Dean’s.

“I love you, Dean.” Cas removes a hand from Dean’s neck and knots it into Dean’s hair. Those eyes, those endless oceans, dance with a grief that pierces Dean to his very core. But it’s not just grief that graces Castiel, there is something deeper there, burning. It’s passion, honest love to be specific. Dean only hesitates a moment before he answers Castiel’s confession.

“I love you, too, my angel.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really sorry about how angsty this is; I just reread Twist and Shout and wrote something to channel mental (and actual) tears.


End file.
